The Birth Story of My Firstborn

Like untold numbers of moms around the world, I had a major case of baby-on-the-brain three days ago.  Not only was I--along with millions of others--keeping my ears open for news coming from London about the birth of Prince William and Kate's baby, I was also checking Facebook as often as I could to see if there was any news from my dear friend Sheryl about the birth of her first grandchild, a little girl named Analora.  :)  By the end of the day, I had read of the safe arrival of both precious babies, and then I could relax a little.  :) 

All of those baby thoughts made me recall my own experiences when each of my children were born--such special memories!  But I realized again that my written record of those births was incomplete.  Eleven years, one month, and twelve days ago, I gave birth to my firstborn; and as astonishing as it may seem with my proclivity to write a lot and {try to} record all the details of momentous occasions, I never actually wrote out his birth story.  Unacceptable, isn't it?  ;-)

All of his siblings have their birth stories recorded for posterity; and as a matter of fact, the more children I have, the longer the birth stories get!  I just don't want any snippet of information to be lost!  :)  David's is here.  Tobin's is here in Part One, Part Two, and Part Three, with pictures in three parts, too (One, Two, and Three).  Shav also got a Part One, Part Two, and Part Three.  With Moriah, it took even more parts to tell her story: One, Two, Three, Four, and Five!  :)

But now, it's Josiah's turn.  I'm more than a decade late; but if my mind can reach back into the shadowy regions of those memories, I'll try to write down what I can about that phenomenal event!  :)

Josiah was due on a Friday, June 14th.  As his due date approached, I wondered, as probably all first time moms do, how I would know that it was time.  I knew that obviously, at some point before the baby popped out, I would know what was going on!  :)  But I really wasn't sure that I would know what a contraction felt like because, despite the efforts of other mothers to describe them, I wasn't certain that I would recognize them when they started happening.

On Wednesday evening of that week, we went to our church's normal midweek meeting, and I'm sure I was asked all the questions that a woman at the end of her pregnancy is asked--are you still here? how much longer do you have?--not to mention the comments--you look like the baby has dropped, not much longer now--and so forth.  But I was grateful for the love and excitement that our friends expressed; it was fun to share the joy in that way.  :)

After the service, we went to Denny's with four other couples; they were some of our closest friends and some of the leaders that helped us in the work of the ministry in that congregation in Imperial Beach, California.  We were grateful, not only for their partnership in the Gospel, but also for the friendships we had with them.  It was always fun to hang out with them!  

On this night, the guys were sitting in one booth, and the girls were sitting in another; and as I sat there with Maggie, Liberty, Tina, and Bobbielynn, I felt so uncomfortable.  I felt extremely cramped, like I just couldn't get enough room to breathe and stretch and be comfortable!  I thought it was because we were sitting in a booth; and with people beside me, I couldn't really expand.  ;-)  It was fairly late in the evening, but I went ahead and ordered grits to eat--they just sounded really good to me!  :)  One of the topics of conversation, of course, was my fast-approaching due date; and I admitted to the girls that I wasn't at all sure what a contraction felt like and how would I know when labor began?  The two women in that group who had previously given birth got that certain look on their faces and sagely said, "Oh, you'll know."  

Little did I--or they--know that I was actually having contractions right then.  :)

To the best of my remembrance, Jeff and I got home around 11:30 or so and went to bed soon after.  He went to sleep (he's blessed with an amazing ability, inherited from his mother, to almost instantly fall asleep when he decides it's time to do so!).  :)  But I laid awake, and gradually it dawned on me, as I paid attention to the sensations in my body, that I just might be having contractions and that the discomfort I had been feeling at the restaurant was the beginning of labor!  What really convinced me that that's what it was was not the way it felt, but the rhythm of it.  (Totally irrelevant, but noteworthy to a grammar nerd: isn't that sentence so interesting because of its use of "that that's" and "was was"??)  :)  As I watched the clock, I realized that there was a pattern.  Wow!  This must be labor!!!

The pain was not bad at all, but I was way too excited to sleep, so I laid there for a while in bed, knowing that I should rest up for the adventure that awaited.  I didn't wake Jeff because I wanted him to be able to get some sleep before the big event, and I knew it would probably take quite a while.  At some point, I went quietly downstairs to get a little snack (I think I ate some crackers); and I wish I could clearly remember what happened next, but I really don't.  I assume that I went back upstairs and woke up Jeff, but it's possible that he woke up on his own and found me downstairs.  That moment of looking at him and telling him, "it's time!" is lost in a void in my brain!

I do remember that I took a shower and found the water to be wonderfully soothing.  I stayed in there a while, shaving my legs (very important early-labor task, right?)  ;-) and telling Jeff when another contraction was coming.  He dutifully wrote all the times down and recorded the intervals.  I know that during that period of my life, a song that had been particularly meaningful to me was Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus, and it's possible that I sang that song while I showered...or maybe simply thought about the words.

The big question in our minds was when to go to the hospital.  I knew that first-time labors are often quite long and that it's not unusual for first-time moms to show up at the hospital thinking that they were further along than they really were.  I did NOT want to do that, so I was leaning towards the stay-at-home-longer side of the fence.  However, the contractions were definitely picking up in intensity; and I recall leaning against the side of our bed (obviously after I got out of the shower) and focusing on my breathing in order to stay on top of the contractions, which were at that point occurring from two minutes apart to four minutes apart.  They never settled into an exact pattern, but they were coming pretty close together.

My mom had come to stay with us and was sleeping in a room down the hall; but I think she woke up and, hearing the commotion in our room, came in and discovered that it was go time!  :)  We called my dad in Virginia to let him know what was happening and to get his advice about whether we should head to the hospital; and I believe that when he heard that I was at the point of needing to breathe through contractions, he was certain that we should proceed to the hospital.  :)

It was oh-so-exciting but rather strange, too, to drive through the dark of that early morning (I'm not sure, but I would guess we went to the hospital in the 3:00-4:00 a.m. range of time) on nearly-deserted streets to the hospital.  I recorded in my pregnancy journal: "The drive normally takes about 15 minutes, but Jeff drove really slowly so it took longer than that."  :)

I remember pulling up to the entrance of the hospital and Jeff letting me and my mom get out before he went to park the car; I stood there in the chilly pre-dawn clutching my pillow and longing for Jeff to return.  Like many new moms do, I had over-prepared and had packed much more than I really needed: a stereo to play music, an exercise ball for laboring on, a back massager, and so much more.  There was no way we could carry it all in one trip so (skipping ahead in the story) after we got settled in a room, Jeff said that he would run back out to the car and get the rest; but I DID NOT WANT HIM TO LEAVE.  As in all of my labors, his presence was a ROCK for me; and I suddenly knew that having him was much more important than having an exercise ball...and this baby would just have to be born without any music from my stereo which was still in the car!  

So many of the details of this time are foggy, but I do recall feeling a great sense of relief when my dilation was checked and I was found to be far enough along to stay in the hospital.  I wish I could remember how far along I was--I'm guessing 4 centimeters?--but at any rate, it was enough to keep me from being sent home.  I rejoiced.  :)

It seems to me that soon after we got there, they had a shift change of nurses.  The first one we had had, who did the preliminary stuff, didn't seem the most compassionate and caring to me, so I wasn't sorry to see her go; maybe she was tired from a long night.  Her replacement, on the other hand, was so wonderful that if I were to meet her now, I would want to give her a gigantic hug and tell her again how grateful I am for her kindness!  :)  Her name was Stephanie, and she was a treasure.  :)

(An aside: I wonder if labor & delivery nurses really have a sense of how vitally important their role is.  They are part of one of the most significant events in the life of a woman, and chances are good that she'll remember them for the rest of her life.  Whenever she tells her child's birth story, she'll think of--and possibly mention--that nurse.  What becomes so routine to labor & delivery nurses is anything but to the new mothers; and those nurses, who usually spend quite a bit more time with the laboring mother than the doctor does, are truly a huge part of that birth event.)

I should probably go ahead and mention that I was hoping to have a natural, no-pain-meds delivery.  I was inspired by my very good friend Carolyn to try to be a "pioneer woman" and skip the epidural.  :)  I did realize, however, that because I had absolutely no idea how much pain I would have and what it would feel like, it was really difficult to be adamant about not getting an epidural.  Jeff knew that I was hoping for a natural birth, but also knew that I wasn't determined enough about it to want him to prevent me from getting an epidural if I felt like I needed it.  My attitude wasn't "no matter how much I scream and beg for an epidural, DON'T let me get one!"  It was more like "please support me in whatever I say in the moment"...and Jeff did.  :)

As the morning went along, I found that I could manage labor fairly well, with the help of...

~ encouraging words from Jeff and my mom,

~ hand massages from Jeff using some new apple-scented lotion I had bought specifically for this occasion,

~ a rocking chair that I spent hours in,

~ a popsicle that was fairly tart,

~ focusing inward (some women use an object to focus on, such as a picture of someone in their family or a gift for the new baby; but for me, the focus had to be inward),

~ concentrating on my breathing (the childbirth classes I took--as well as books and articles I read--had helped prepare me for that), and

~ preparing mentally in the short break between contractions for the pain of the next one.

I was feeling pain, to be sure (after all, I hadn't read the book Supernatural Childbirth yet)  ;-), but it wasn't overwhelming.

At some point, my dilation was checked and found to be 8.  I can't remember if it had been checked before that (not counting the check when I first arrived at the hospital) or not, but I do remember that one check showed me to be at 8, which was very encouraging.  I continued to labor as I had been; and although I had previously thought I'd like to walk the halls to keep labor moving along, I discovered that the rocking chair was really the most comfortable place for me.  The exercise ball was still in the car so I never got the chance to try that!  ;-)

After more time had passed, I asked to be checked again, because surely I must have progressed!  I think the nurse or whoever did the check showed a little hesitation, probably knowing that it hadn't really been that long since I'd been checked and that I probably hadn't changed much.  But the check was done, and the result?  Still an 8.

That's when I lost it.

The mental focus that gave me the ability to ride the waves of pain without sinking under them was instantly gone.  I was in trouble, and I knew it.  The discouragement that came from knowing my dilation hadn't changed doomed my plan for a medicine-free birth.

I asked for an epidural.

(Disclaimer: there is NOTHING wrong with an epidural.  If you're reading this and you got an epidural and you feel like I'm putting down women who do, please stop thinking that right now!!  :)  With Josiah, as you'll read in a second, I got one; and with Shav, I longed for one but never got a chance to have it because it took the nurses so long to find a vein and get an IV started for me.  So I am NOT anti-epidural, and I do NOT feel holier-than-thou because I've given birth naturally!)  :)

And then I waited.  

The guy who was giving epidurals that day was apparently pretty busy because it took him a LONG time (it seemed to me) to make it to my room.  As a matter of fact, by the time he got there, my dilation was at 9 and a half!  Looking back, of course I think it was crazy to go ahead and get it; but at the time, there was nothing I wanted more than to have a taste of sweet relief.

That's pretty much all I got, as it turned out.  A taste.  But before I write more about that, let me mention something that Jeff reminded me of yesterday.  When the anesthesiologist was getting ready to stick me for the epidural, Jeff was in front of me, but my mother was behind me and to the side.  He warned her that she might not want to watch me getting a needle stuck into my spine, but she reassured him that she would be fine and that she was married to a doctor and was used to such things, etc.

But then - can you guess what happened? - she started getting woozy, and the nurses had to bring a chair for her to sit down in until she could recover!  So much for her bravado!  ;-)

Well, after I got the epidural, I did find some relief from the pain, and I was extremely grateful for that.  However, the relief did not last, and I don't know if the epidural wasn't inserted right, or if it wasn't "programmed" to keep pumping the pain medicine, or if my body just didn't receive it like some women's bodies do.  But for whatever reason, after a time, the pain again began to build up until it was, quite frankly, excruciating.  

Also, once I got the epidural, it was basically time to push.  Somewhere in here, I believe the doctor broke my water (I think Jeff watched him do it with something that looked sort of like a crochet hook,  but maybe that's David's labor I'm thinking of); and when the fluid came out, we discovered that it had meconium in it.  I don't remember being particularly concerned about it because I'd read enough to know that it wasn't uncommon for that to happen.  But it was a factor to be watched to make sure Josiah stayed healthy, during and after delivery.  But back to the pushing...

Of course I couldn't be in any kind of an upright position because of the epidural, so there I was, lying flat on my back, with Jeff holding one leg (and Stephanie the other?), trying to push this baby that I loved more than life out of my body.

And not succeeding very well.

I hesitate to place blame on anyone for my inability, but I will timidly suggest that the childbirth instructor (whom I liked very much otherwise!) who filled in for our normal instructor on the night pushing was discussed set me up with some false expectations.  I remember her being a cheerleader type and saying something to the effect of "pushing isn't hard! you can give two or three pushes, and that baby will be out!!"

Not so.  At least, not with this first-time mother.

After two or three pushes, Josiah was still so far inside me that I doubt he'd even budged from his cozy little nest.  Pushing was hard.  Pushing was long.  Pushing was discouraging.

I pushed for about two and a half hours, most of that time without feeling any benefit from the epidural (maybe it was helping some, but if so, I sure didn't realize it!).  As much as I disliked being myself at that point in time, I would have also disliked being Jeff or my mom because they had to stand there helplessly and watch me!  They were so supportive though and endlessly uplifting.  What would I have done without them?

One technique which the nurses used to try to encourage me during this time was angling a mirror so that I could catch a glimpse of the top of Josiah's head, but that didn't help a bit.  Again, my focus had to be inward, not outward; and I believe I probably did most of this laboring/pushing with my eyes closed.  (I have since learned from my other labors that until that time comes, you just really don't know what will be the key that will help the most.  Sometimes you just have to try different things until you find what works in that situation and at that time!)  I think I was still using some of the breathing patterns we had practiced in our childbirth classes, but I have no idea which ones!  

By this point, I was beginning to feel a sense of delirium which continued until after the birth.  It almost felt like an out-of-body experience--like I was floating above and looking down on myself, but was unable to control what I said and did.  Strange.  Very, very strange.  

Eventually, of course, I did make progress with the pushing, and Josiah was almost ready to be born.  And then - would you believe it? - the doctor (Dr. Atiga), whose office was literally right across the street from the hospital, wasn't there yet!  He had come by earlier and checked on me before his office hours started.  But when I was ready to finally push Josiah out, he was still in his office seeing patients!  I made a note in Josiah's baby book (from which I'm drawing quite a bit of these recollections) that I told Stephanie, the nurse, that SHE could deliver the baby.  As you can imagine, I did not want to wait any longer.  After hearing "push! push!" for so long, to now hear "don't push! don't push!" was odd!  :)

Finally the doctor came...and, thanks be to God, Josiah was born.

I have no words to convey the splendor of that moment and the depth of love that surged in my heart.  I'm sitting here trying to think of what to say, and I can't.  You'll just have to imagine; and if you're a mom and have gone through this yourself, I'm sure you won't have any trouble doing so.

Here are the matter-of-fact stats:  He was born at 11:23 a.m. (so my labor lasted around 12 hours, although it's really hard to say for sure because I was having those early contractions without knowing it...but I would say that for about 11 and a half hours, I was conscious of being in labor) on Thursday, June 13, 2002.  His weight was 7 lbs, 14 oz, which I was thrilled to hear because I had thought that having a baby in the 7 pound range would be ideal.  :)  He was 21 inches long with a head measurement of 36 centimeters.  He was born in room 333.  :)  His eyes were dark blue, his hair was light brown.  We couldn't find any birthmarks.  He had long fingers, big feet (the nurses commented on them right away) ;-), a peaches and cream complexion.  He was perfect.

Because of the meconium, Josiah was not placed on my chest immediately, but was taken over to be checked and have his lungs suctioned out right away (I hope I'm using the right terminology...whatever they were doing had to do with the meconium and their concern that he would have gotten some of it into his lungs which might cause infection, if I understand correctly).  I don't think Jeff cut the cord, but I might be completely mistaken about that.  

Honestly, I don't think I minded.  My birth plan, which I'm sure had included things like "would like to have soft music playing" and "would like to be in an upright position for pushing" and "would like to have husband cut the cord" and "would like to have skin-to-skin contact immediately after birth" went flying out the window basically as soon as we arrived at the hospital; and by that point, I didn't care what happened, as long as the baby was born and was safe and healthy.

And he was.

Healthy.  Safe.  Born!  

Ours.

In Josiah's baby book, in answer to the question "The first thing Father said when you were born," Jeff wrote, "I do not remember what I said, but I do remember looking at your mom and watching as both of us shed tears of joy and fascination--you are an incredible miracle from God, and we love you so much!"

My response to "The first thing Mother said when you were born" was not as poetic.  I wrote, "I can't remember what the first thing was; but I do remember you grabbing my finger when you were brought over to me for the first time, and I commented on how strong your grip was.  Then I thought to myself, 'What a dumb thing to say!  Of all the special and significant things I could say right now, why did I say that?'"  :)

Jeff mentioned my tears.  I think they started as soon as our son was born and didn't stop for the next four weeks!  :)  I was a weepy woman, for sure--happier than I had ever been, but unable to turn off the faucet of my eyes!  :)

I did not know that, during labor, our very dear friends Jeff and Lisa Chacon had come to the hospital and were waiting there with us.  Jeff C. sat in the waiting room and worked on his Father's Day sermon (Father's Day was three days away) until I had Josiah, and then he got to come in and see the new baby (that's Stephanie, our wonderful nurse, with Josiah, by the way)...

...and Lisa, unbeknownst to me, had actually been standing outside my room door while I was laboring.  What a faithful friend!  I was thrilled to see them (as well as the other visitors who came to meet our new son).  :)

I was so paranoid that someone would try to steal Josiah or that he would get mixed up with another baby, so I was relieved that all the medical procedures and bathing, etc. were done while he was in the room with us.  I did NOT want to let that baby out of my sight!  :)

I had Josiah on Thursday and came home on Saturday.  Jeff spent at least the first night with me on that blue cot they brought in for him.  Not the most comfortable thing in the world, but I don't think he minded too much.  :)

I remember that a few hours after the birth, Jeff went to a nearby farmer's market, since it was Thursday and we had made almost a weekly ritual of going to that farmer's market every Thursday during my pregnancy.  He came back to the room with lots of delicious, fresh fruit, and I was so grateful for that!  :)

This time with Josiah was precious beyond my ability to describe.  But on a less lofty level, my body was in pain.  It hurt to sit down, lay down, roll over in bed, or do anything.  When I needed to sit in a chair, I would carefully place a pillow or two on it first, then gingerly lower myself onto it to try to minimize the pain.  Because I tore and had an episiotomy, I had some serious discomfort for quite a long time afterwards.  When David was born, I had MUCH less pain and could be up and around and feeling good very soon after birth.  When I watched the other mothers who were in the maternity ward of the Tel Aviv hospital with me after David was born (there was a big room with rocking chairs where many of us gathered to nurse our babies, so I got to see lots of other new moms there), I could sympathize with the ones who moved so slowly and sat so carefully on pillows and were doing all the things I had had to do after Josiah's birth!

When Saturday morning came and we were preparing to be released from the hospital, it was a little bit of a hectic time.  There were some videos I was supposed to watch about postpartum recovery, infant care, and so forth; and I remember that a nurse had rolled a TV and VCR into my room and turned those on.  But meanwhile, my friend Carolyn (who had driven all the way from Arizona to come visit us!) and her teenage son John were there in the room; and it was a little embarrassing to be hearing about "episiotomy incision" and "breast tenderness" and other such things with a young man in the room!  ;-)  Plus, I just wanted to spend time with my friends, not watch videos about things that I had already read a huge quantity of information about!  :)

Eventually the time came for me to dress Josiah in his own clothes so we could take him home.  I think Jeff had gone to get the car pulled around to the entrance or something like that because I believe I was alone when I started dressing Josiah.  And then the tears came.  In force.  Without stopping.

I cried as I put his clothes on.  I cried as we were wheeled out of the room.  I cried down the hall.  I cried when we stopped at the nurses station to say "thank you" and "goodbye" to Stephanie.  I cried in the elevator.  I cried while being wheeled out to our car.  I cried when I saw our friend Mike Bibalo and one of his daughters; they were coming to visit us and just happened to get there to the hospital entrance as we were leaving.  As a matter of fact, we got him to take some pictures of us, none of which are posted here because I look terrible in them!  :)

(Another aside: when I saw how beautiful Kate looked holding the newborn prince in her arms, I thought, "Oh dear, if I had had to leave the hospital after Josiah was born while being watched by thousands or millions of people, I would have had a break-down!  I would have had to just stay and cry in my room and hope that everybody would go away!"  :)  Also, I've seen Kate's lingering baby bump mentioned on Facebook and other places, and I was reminded that I had NO IDEA I would have such a large one remaining after Josiah was born.  To still look six months pregnant when it was time to leave the hospital was NOT something I was expecting at all!)  

When I see the picture above, I think it's a wonder Josiah didn't die of heatstroke on the way home.  It was June in southern California; but we bundled him up with his regular clothes, a hat, a fleece blanket, and a crocheted blanket to bring him home!  He wasn't cold, that's for sure!  ;-)

On the way home, Jeff drove, Josiah was in the middle of the back seat, and I sat in the front seat with Jeff.  I remember wanting to guard against the tendency to make the child the center of life, to the exclusion of the husband, so I thought that sitting beside Jeff would set a good direction for our parenting journey.  :)  I did, however, often turn around to check on Josiah.  :)

Then the sweet (but still emotional!) days of settling in came.

We learned how to bathe him, clothe him, feed him, change him, and swaddle him.  We learned what his cries meant and how to comfort him.  We learned that life would never be the same again.

It would be so much better.

Why?

Because we were now a family - of three!!!  :)